What Hunger Really Looks Like

When people think about hunger, they usually picture something obvious.

Someone living on the street.

Someone with nothing.

But that’s not what hunger usually looks like.

I’m sharing a photo of my dad as a young boy. It’s a school picture. His hair is neatly combed. He’s wearing a button-down shirt. He has that shy little smile kids give the camera when they’re told to sit still and behave.

If you looked at that photo, you would never think:

That child is hungry.

But he was.

He went to school like every other kid.

He smiled like every other kid.

And he carried something no one else could see.

That’s what hunger often looks like.

And it’s what I see now in our no-cost market.

I see kids walk in with big eyes and huge smiles.

They’re excited.

Excited about cereal.

Excited about picking their own snacks.

Excited that there are options.

And I hear things that stay with me.

“Wait… we can pick any of these?”

“They have the good kind!”

“Mom, you love this brand!”

There’s real joy in those moments.

But underneath that joy is something quieter.

Most of the families who come through our market don’t look how people think hunger “should” look. They live in houses. They drive cars. Their kids are in school and sports and activities.

From the outside, everything looks fine.

But groceries are expensive.

Rent goes up.

Unexpected things happen.

And sometimes the first thing to disappear is choice.

That’s why those small comments matter to me. The surprise. The excitement over something simple.

Because hunger isn’t always loud.

Sometimes it’s just a quiet distraction sitting in a child’s belly. Something they don’t have words for. Something they carry while still smiling for school pictures.

And honestly… that’s where Benny’s Tummy Monster came from.

I kept thinking about my dad as a little boy. Smiling for that camera. Trying to learn. Trying to focus. Carrying hunger quietly.

I started wondering what that feeling must be like inside a child. If hunger had a personality, what would it be? Would it growl? Would it whisper? Would it make it hard to think?

That’s how the Tummy Monster was born.

This book isn’t about making anyone feel bad.

It’s about giving kids language.

It’s about helping them understand what’s happening in their bodies — and helping others understand too.

Because sometimes hunger doesn’t look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like a smiling little boy in a school photo.

And sometimes it looks like a child lighting up over a box of cereal.

Benny’s Tummy Monster was written for kids like him.

For the ones who carry hunger quietly.

The book will be releasing later this year.

Sharing it feels personal — because in many ways, it began with my dad… and my mom too.

I’ll share more about her soon.

And truly - thank you for coming along on this journey with me. It means more than you know.

— June M. Everett